The Ghost in the Black Gown- Creative Writing Essay

way though the corridors, the line finally shortened and we went through a door that led to what seemed

From the first lines of The House of the Spirits, Allende uses the technique of a feminized magical realism to pull the reader into a political-historical novel. Alba Trueba from Allende’s The House of the Spirits is an effective example of this revolutionary female narration. Her story, which includes her female relatives’ viewpoints and excludes Trueba’s version, is a direct block to Trueba’s egotistic, stiff, and not exactly true version of events. Her woman-centered narration is, further, a symbol of the triumph of women’s expression and their revision of patriarchal and authoritarian history. Alba watches the military erase history and devastate the country, but she in turn uses her power of writing to resist. Alba and her female, therefore,

I walked to it and tried prying it from the ground with my fingers. A twig broke behind me and I jumped and spun around. It was dark now and the only light was from the full moon. I had a bad feeling start to pump through me. I turned and ran trying to evacuate the danger I felt nearby. I ran through brush that looked like claws trying to grab my ankles. And as tree limbs came down snatching at my skin I tripped and fell. I saw a tree nearby that looked welcoming and I tried to use it as cover. Black wings busted through the trees and run started echoing around me in a croaked out a raspy breath.

Inside the small house it was pitch black and completely silent. So dark, in fact, that one could not see their own hand in front of their face. The deeper into the house, the darker it became. Now into the family room and up the stairs.A distinct sound of scratching emanated from the door at the end of the hall. Inside, the room seemed to belong to a young girl, but only because the little girl nestled in bed deemed it so.

“Oh just some paper and some milk.” I said after grabbing the milk out of the refrigerator.

When we enter the Spencer Museum, we were brought to different locations in museum to review five pieces of art works. After much consideration, I personally chose “Haunted by the Ghost of Our Own Making” by Hollis Sigler as the central theme of my essay. Like many other abstract canvas in the museum, “Haunted by the Ghost of Our Own Making” is not necessary the most powerful in conveying its message to the audience without artwork description provided by the museum or a narrator, as compare to other pieces like Above Ground Movement by the Young Female Activists who captured photographs with meaningful and relatable events.

I turned a corner in the long, white, sterile-looking hallway, the robes that I had gotten from, from, from somewhere concealing my face. I ran my tongue over my perfect, un-broken teeth as I came finally to the correct room.

I was wondering the forest when a Shadow Figure was following me. I started running, the Shadow Figure was chasing me from the forest. The Shadow Figure Chased me to a unfamiliar village. I was tired so I collapsed and fainted on the ground of the village.

He handed me a menu and advised that a waiter would be with me soon.

As I walk home I put my earphones in and start playing the song Diamonds Aren't Forever by Bring Me The Horizon. The clouds began to cover the sun, and just like my eyes, water began to fall out of the sky. This was the weather I'd have to get used to. Seattle was know for its grey skies and underground bands. I'd be leaving my life behind to start a new one.

Then it was about midday and I went around a curve like forty miles per hour and there is a huge washed out place and you can't even see it cause it is filled with grass up to the top. When I drove off in it I was just in the air for a while it felt like then there was a tree in the hole and my roof hit that and it hit it hard I almost fell out but I grabbed the steering wheel.

Our lives are build out of experiences. Depending on where we live, what we are going through, or our state of mind, we build our personal lives by making some concessions and adjustments in order to cope with others. In the play GHOST by Henrik Ibsen, Mrs. Alving and Pastor Manders are two characters whose stories differ because of secrets, misunderstandings, and masquerade.

me to come in and to follow him. He waddled into the living room where

up I'm on a life raft drifting in the middle of nowhere. The first thing I think of is where

There 's that look people get told they have, where they look like they 've seen a ghost. I want to know what it means to have that feeling but knowing you 're the ghost. It had been too long since I stepped foot anywhere near these parts of the city. After I turned and changed into who I am now, I never wanted to risk getting seen by any members of the family that runs this part. That is actually a good reason they have never been able to extend their territory any further. It 's kind of easy to hear when a gang war is about to break out for someone to gain new ground. And for me, it 's all too easy to join the defending family and help kill men you were once friends with to make sure you had the room to run fucking wild. I 'm made a few good friends, nah I made a few bad acquaintances by doing that. The men that run other parts of this city know me by who I am now, only one knows me by who I was. Maybe it 's for the best he knows Big Mac is against him, less likely that it 's me behind the mask then. God, in those days, before I grew up and found out doing everything I was getting told to do, without being told to do them was so much better, Claire not counting, she just above another voice in my head. But the freedom I have, may not seem like a good thing for the city and its people, but I love being me and only this me.